ScoobyDoo and the Return of the Maniac
by ElisabethCarter
Summary: Mystery Inc. is in for the worst time of their lives. Morte has escaped from prison and is determined to make them finish the test. Will they be able to handle this creep again? This is part of my series, so read my other stories first. Please review!
1. A Ghastly Gift

Hey, everyone! Thanks for all the amazing reviews you guys gave me at the end of my last story. I've decided, thanks to your reviews, that I'm going to continue this series. I have a few ideas but suggestions are always welcome. Also, I'd like to get your opinion on something: do you think Morte should be captured? I think I have an idea of what I want to do with her character, but I wanted to see what you guys thought. So, please review when you're done reading this!

_Chapter 1 A Ghastly Gift _

Chief Kessler looked worried. She had in her hand the note that Morte had left before her escape. Kessler was in her office, a nervous bunch of teenagers standing before her, wondering what to do. She always thought that Morte's arrest had seemed to easy; now she knew that it was planned. "I got what I came for so I have left," the note read. What could the lunatic possibly mean by that?

Fred was pacing back and forth anxiously. He ran his hand through his hair in an agitated manner, thinking over the clue they had received. He had read it so many times that he could recite it backwards if he needed to. The thing that worried him most was the fact that she seemed intent on making them finish this test. There were still three more phases before the thing would be complete, leaving her an ample amount of time to torture them.

Daphne, sitting in a chair across from the chief's desk, shifted uneasily. She couldn't get over the feeling that they were being watched, a feeling which was often followed by trouble. She looked at Fred, aware that he was worried about all of them. Mary had assured them all that Fred would not be captured, for he was the one Morte was truly testing. This had put Daphne slightly at ease, knowing that the boy she loved would be safe. Unfortunately, due to their close friendship, that made her a very likely target.

Velma sat beside Daphne, her mind analyzing everything. She couldn't think of anything they could do until the third phase began. Her thoughts switched to the note they had found in Morte's cell. "I got what I came for so I have left." This meant that Morte had planned the arrest, knowing she would be locked up in Manderly Institute, and then escaped when she had gotten what she wanted. That left one troubling question: what could Morte have possibly needed from an instituation for the criminally insane?

Shaggy was sitting in a chair next to Velma. All of a sudden he jumped up from his seat and began pacing with Fred. Soon after, he stopped this and leaned against the wall. Moments later, he was pacing once more. It seemed as though he could not stay in one spot for very long. His mind was running through all the possible horrors that Morte could inflict on them. He desparately longed to be like Fred, strong and dependable. With Fred around, Daphne felt safe. Shaggy wished that he could provide the same sense of security for Velma, though he knew this would never happen. He was, and always would be, a coward.

Scooby-Doo was curled up in a corner, whimpering softly. The dog hadn't eaten all day, a strange habit for him. This was a sure sign of the anxiety and worry that had overcome everyone in that office.

The group was silent, not sure what to say to one another, each person worrying about their lives and those of their friends.

Finally, the chief broke the uncomfortable quiet that had descended up on the room. "Well, I'm afraid there's nothing we can do until Morte makes contact again," she informed them. "We'll just have to wait and find out what she is going to do next."

Fred was about to reply when the sound of shattering glass filled the office. The noise startled Shaggy, causing him to jump into Velma's arms just as Scooby lept into his. This proved to be a bad idea, for all three of them fell to the floor with a _thud_. Velma shook her head as she stood, checking to see what had caused the commotion.

The window behind Kessler's desk had been broken by a metallic cylinder that was now resting on the floor. For a moment, all anyone could do was stare at it, wondering what the hell this thing was and why anyone would throw it at them. Then, a low hissing sound was heard as some sort of smoke leaked out. Immediately, Chief Kessler, the nearest to this strange device, seemed to recognize what this was, though by then it was too late. She collapsed to the floor. The gang stared in terror, but soon they felt themselves grow weak. Daphne was the first to sway dangerously, though she was caught by Fred, who soon found it impossible to support himself and Daphne at the same time. The two collapsed lifelessly as the gas took effect. Velma and Shaggy made an attempt to exit, but they had already inhaled too much of the incapacitating agent. Everything grew blurry as they found it difficult to remain standing. Soon they too found themselves falling to the floor.

Velma struggled to stay awake. For a brief moment, before her thoughts became incomprehensible, she knew there was someone else in the room, someone who had climbed through the broken window. Before she could successfully identify this person, Velma's strength and resistance ran out. Her mind went completely blank as she, like everyone else, was now lying on the floor, limp and unconcious, unable to defend herself against the stranger that had done this to them.


	2. Psycho in the Cellar

Thanks to the three people who reviewed! Please, if you're reading this, just leave a little comment when you're done. I'm really excited because exactly two months ago, I started writing stories on here! It's been a really great experience and I'd like to give special shout-outs to those of you who always review on my stuff: SpongeAddict, Hollie, Russ M, LadyStrength and AudreyMetalMouth.

_Chapter 2 Psycho in the Cellar_

Daphne's eyes fluttered open. She found herself in a cold room with a musty smell. The only light was a dim glow emitted from the cracks in a door at the top of a flight of stairs. Daphne looked around to see racks of wine bottles and a few boxes. She was in a cellar. Daphne stood shakily to get a better view of the place, wondering where exactly she was. Her mind quickly replayed the events that had occurred in the chief's office. Smoke, knockout gas, confusion - these all flooded back, leaving her light-headed and perplexed. That still didn't explain why she was there.

Something stirred a few feet away. Daphne carefully crept over, praying that it wasn't a rat. She squinted through the darkness to find that it was a person. Beside this helpless figure were three more limp bodies, two being people and one being a dog. Daphne breathed a sigh of relief - her friends were okay.

"Fred, Freddie, wake up," she whispered to the boy who had begun to squirm a bit. The incapacitating agent was obvioulsy wearing off. Daphne gently shook his shoulder, leaning down so she could speak softly by his ear without alerting anyone that might be listening.

Within a few moments, Fred's eyes were groggily opening. He saw in the dim lighting that Daphne was leaning toward him. It would take a very little amount of effort to lift his head and kiss her. He pushed aside such thoughts, for this was neither the time nor the place. "Wha-what happened?" he asked, rubbing his forehead with his hand in an attempt to make the massive headache go away.

Daphne shook her head. "I don't really know. Someone knocked us all out and put us in this cellar. Thankfully, Shaggy, Scooby and Velma are still here with us."

Fred looked confused. "Morte's behind this - I'm sure of it. But why would she trap us down here and not kidnap anyone? That doesn't make sense."

A thought struck Daphne. "Because she _did_ take someone."

"But you said that the rest of the gang is down here, too," Fred responded, perplexed.

"Yes, they are, but we weren't the only ones in that office," she explained. "Chief Kessler was there as well, and I'm almost positive that she's not stuck here with us. That means that she's the victim." Daphne didn't wait for Fred to reply. Instead, she ran up the stairs and toward the door, though it refused to open. Pulling out a bobby-pin, Daphne quickly picked the lock, springing open the door and giving them a way to escape. When she got back down to where Fred was, she noticed that he was smiling.

"You did the same thing the first day we met," he explained, lost in fond memory. "That was back when you still hated me, when you wanted nothing to do with me, when you yelled at me for trying to help you out." Daphne blushed, ashamed of this. "But, you know something? I wouldn't trade that for anything. If you hadn't been so against me at the beginning, I doubt we'd ever be this close now. So thank you for hating my guts." He was smiling that dazzling smile of his.

Daphne laughed softly. "It was my pleasure," she responded, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. Thankfully, the room was still very dark, even with the light from the doorway, making it nearly impossible to tell that Daphne was blushing at that moment. At least she was doing better than Fred, who's mind had gone completely blank as her lips came in contact with his skin. Daphne noticed that he needed to snap out of his trance, so she cleared her throat. "Um, Fred, don't you think we'd better wake the others and get out of here?"

Fred laughed nervously. "Right," he muttered, wanting to kick himself for looking like such an idiot.

Shaggy and Velma were soon concious once more, as was Scooby. The gang made their way out of the cellar, finding themselves in what appeared to be an old abandoned home. They looked around for any sort of clue that would explain why Morte had chosen that particular place to trap them.

"Jinkies!" Velma cried. "Get a load of this."

"What is it?" Fred asked, running over to her. When he got there, he saw that it was nothing more than an aged photograph.

"Look," Velma said to the others, pointing to one of the people in the picture. It was an oddly familiar girl of their age with dark, tangled hair and shallow black eyes. "I think that's Morte."

"Then who's that next to her?" Daphne wondered, directing their attention to a young boy who stood beside the teenaged Morte. He had the same hair and eyes as her, though his face was softer, more delicate and gentle. "Could they be siblings?"

"I think so," Velma responded carefully pocketing the photograph to save for further examination once they had made it away from the decrepit place. She looked around once more, noticing that this had been someone's home many years ago. "I think they grew up here. Morte and her brother, I mean. We'll have to see if we can find out anything about him."

"Um, guys, I think I, like, found something," Shaggy told them fearfully. He was crouched down by the cellar door, reaching for a piece of paper that rested on the top step. "It's, like, another note."

Fred took the paper and read it aloud.

_Anthony Perkins, The Bates Motel,  
Things that Daphne knows so well.  
Kessler is there, where Norman lies,  
So please, do hurry, or she dies.  
This phase is simple, easy to end,  
So don't disappoint me, dear friend.  
If you cannot pass this giveaway phase,  
The girl you love most will be taken away.  
Freddie, that should be motivation enough.  
Good-bye now, my friends, I'll be in touch._

_-Morte_


	3. Breaking the Rules

_Chapter 3 Breaking the Rules_

"Zoinks!" Shaggy exclaimed.

Fred opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a low rumbling coming from Scooby's direction. The dog shrugged. "Rorry, R-I'm hungry."

Fred smiled for a moment before realizing that he had been about to address his friends. Once again he tried to comment but was interrupted as the door creaked open. "Mary, what the hell are you doing here?" Fred asked, for the man had just walked into the abandoned house.

Mary smiled. "I tracked the signal coming from Daphne's phone," he responded as if this were totally normal and not the least bit creepy.

"Okay then..." Velma eyed the man as if he were insane before continuing. "We think this was Morte's old home. We found this picture of what we assume is a younger Morte with her brother." She handed the photograph to their guest. "Morte must have gotten to us after the knockout gas filled the room. She trapped us in the cellar and left this note," she added, allowing Mary to look at the piece of paper. "According to this clue, Chief Kessler is in danger, so we need to quickly figure out what this lunatic is talking about."

Mary bit his lip. "I'm sorry, but I received a letter from Morte instructing me to let you figure out all the clues on your own."

Fred groaned. "Well, does anyone know what this could possibly mean? Daphne, do you have any ideas? She specifically mentioned you in here."

Daphne read through the clue once more. "It's talking about _Psycho._"

"Well, yeah," Shaggy said, obviously not understand what Daphne was talking about. "We totally already knew she was, like, talking about crazy stuff, but how does that help us?"

Ignoring Shaggy's comment, Fred asked, "The movie?" He was recalling some character names from the production that had become Daphne's favorite. He had only seen the film once with her several months earlier.

"Yes, the movie," she replied. "Anthony Perkins was the actor who played Norman Bates, and the Bates Motel was the place where the whole thing took place." She read it again. "But what does it mean by 'where Norman lies?' He was a fictional character; there can't be any actual grave."

Fred began pacing. "All I know is that if we don't hurry, she'll come after you, Daph. We have to find out what this freak is talking about."

Daphne looked confused. "Why do you assume that she'll come after me?"

_Because you're "the girl I love most,"_ he thought, unable to confess his true feelings. Instead of responding, he remained silent, walking back and forth, his anxiety rubbing off on his friends. He ran his hand through his hair, unable to solve this riddle. No one else seemed to understand it either. Soon, a growing sense of panic seemed to descend upon the teenagers as they worried about the possibility that Chief Kessler would never be found.

Finally, Mary sighed. "Alright, fine, I'll help you, but I feel really bad about breaking Morte's rules. There's an old film museum up the road. It has a whole floor dedicated to Hitchcock with many props from _Psycho_. That's probably where we need to go."

Daphne was so overcome by relief at this news that she actually grabbed Mary's face in her hands and gave him one quick peck on the cheek. Velma soon followed suit as the girls exited the old house and walked toward Mary's car, grinning softly at the fact that they would soon find and rescue Kessler. Fred and Shaggy, glaring threateningly at the grinning man, were close behind the Daphne and Velma. Only Scooby seemed completely unaffected by the recent events.

"What the hell was that for?" Fred whispered harshly to Daphne as the gang began driving toward the film museum.

Daphne shrugged, offended by Fred's scathing tone. "It was nothing."

"Didn't look like nothing," he mumbled. "Don't ever do that again." Even as he spoke the words, Fred regretted them. He realized how commanding he sounded, how rude and inconsiderate.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Since when can you control what I do?"

Fred was immediately reminded of his old girlfriend, Terri. The two had been together for quite some time before Daphne had come into his life. Terri and Fred had gotten into a fight over Fred's contact with other girls. "You can't control every aspect of my life," he had told her. Why had he suddenly become so possessive of Daphne? Why was he turning into the same demanding person that Terri had been? He winced at the thought of what Daphne's opinion of him must be at that moment. "I'm sorry," he replied softly. "I'm really sorry."

Daphne was taken aback by the sencerity in his voice. Her face softened, bringing about a forgiving smile. "It's fine," she replied, resting her head on his shoulder in an attempt to show him that they were still close, that nothing could sever this bond they shared.

"Velma, why'd you, like, do that...thing in there?" Shaggy asked, referring to the quick kiss she'd given Mary.

Velma raised an eyebrow curiously. "What's the matter? Jealous?" she teased, not expecting the reaction she got.

Shaggy's face turned bright red and he gulped nervously. "Um, n-no, psh, no, jealous? Me? N-no way."

Velma giggled. Before she could question Shaggy further, Mary spoke to the teens in his backseat.

"Alright, Mystery Inc.," he said to them. "We're here."


	4. Twist in the Plot

Hi, everyone! I'm really sorry if you haven't seen the movie _Psycho_ because this chapter may be a bit confusing for you. To better understand what's going on, I'll give you a brief summary of the movie. If you're planning on watching it later, don't read this, as it will most likely spoil the film. It is a Hitchcock movie, perhaps the most famous of them all. A woman on the run stays for a night at The Bates Motel, run by Norman Bates (played by Anthony Perkins) and his mother. The mother doesn't approve of Norman speaking to this woman, so, while the guest is in the shower, Mrs. Bates sneaks into her room and stabs her to death. Later it is discovered that Mrs. Bates died a while before, leaving Norman alone. He developed a split personality, one as himself and one as his mother. So, he is the one that killed the guest. He was psycho. Anyway, in order to understand this chapter better, you should go online and look up the shower scene (there is nothing graphic or R-rated about this part).  
Please review and enjoy!

_Chapter 4 Twist in the Plot_

The gang rushed into the film museum, Mary close behind. They discovered a map, directing them toward the second floor where all Hitchcock related items were on display. Props from nearly all of his famous movies were crowded into the second story of the building. _Rear Window, Rebecca, Vertigo - _all productions that were in some way referenced on that floor.

"Where do we start?" Daphne asked nervously, a growing sense of panic spreading over her.

"We have to find the props from _Psycho_," Fred pointed out. Following a gut feeling, he ran down a corridor to their left. Thankfully, that seemed to be the right direction. "Follow me, gang," he told them, leading the group into a room that was eerily dark and quiet.

Daphne walked forward slowly, examining the tribute to her favorite movie. "Ah," she squealed, noticing the figure of a person out of the corner of her eye. She sighed with relief, realizing that it was merely a mannequin dressed in Anthony Perkins' costume. "Jeepers, this place is creepy," she whispered. Silence enveloped the room, any slight sound causing everyone to jump.

Fred walked over toward a replica of the shower they had used in the most famous scene. He noticed that they had created a shadow behind the shower curtain to make it seem as though Norman's mother was sitting just on the other side. He admired this for a moment before furrowing his brow. This was all wrong. Norman Bates wasn't sitting during that scene. No, if anything, they should have made it so the shadow was standing with a knife in its hand. That would have made the whole thing more authentic. But why would a film museum make such a poor choice with one of their displays? Fred slowly pulled back the curtain, finding an unconcious Chief Kessler strapped down to a chair inside the tub.

"Hey, gang, over here," he shouted, waving his friends over.

Fred struggled to loosen the knots binding the woman to the chair, but he was unsuccessful. Luckily, Scooby-Doo came in to help. The dog knawed on the ropes for a few minutes, finally allowing the string to fall to the floor, the chief free at last.

Kessler's eyes slowly started to open. She took in the scene around her, utterly perplexed. "What happened? Where are we?"

"There'll be plenty of time to explain that later," Fred said, ushering the woman up from her seat. He looked around nervously, not trusting the situation. "Does anyone else feel like this was a bit too easy?"

Suddenly, before answers could be given, a big, sharp knife embedded its blade in a nearby table. Fred slowly walked over, watching his back at all times. He noticed that, attached to the blade, there was a note, similar to the many they had received before. This one was slightly different, however, in the sense that it was addressed to Mary. Not reading it, Fred handed it over to the strange man who had accompanied them on their journey.

_Mary, Mary, quite contrary, I fear it's your time to go.  
This test was for the children only,  
So now you must leave them alone._

_My fan, my enemy and friend,  
For you this must be the end.  
As you know the test has it's price,  
And now you must be sacrificed.  
I know you'll be watching from the sky.  
But for now, dear Mary, this is good-bye._

_-Morte_

Mary read the note aloud, his eyes growing wider with each word. He began to laugh that wicked, crazed laugh of his just as shrill, intense music began to play. Daphne immediately recognized it as the song that played during the killing scenes of _Psycho._ She gasped, knowing what was going to happen, but, by then, it was too late.

Another knife soared down from an unknown location. It's blade landed directly in Mary's chest, blood oozing slowly from the wound as Mary, still cackling madly, fell to the floor, breathing his last breaths.

Everyone gasped. Daphne even began to cry a little. Each person was shocked, their minds not fully able to grasp what had just happened. Daphne hung limply at Fred's side, Velma doing the same with Shaggy. Scooby was cowering at Kessler's feet, his ears drooping and his tail between his legs.

Chief Kessler was the first to make a move. Her actions were numb and mechanical. She lifted the note from Mary's cold, dead hand. A few spots of blood stained the paper, the deep red a startling contrast to the bright white. She turned the paper over, looking at the back of it sadly.

"I'm afraid there's more," she told them, her voice hollow and pitying.

Fred took the paper from her outstreched hand, wondering what Kessler could possibly be talking about. He saw the twisted, eerie rhyme, indicating Morte's plans to dispose of Mary. Then, copying what Kessler had done a few seconds earlier, he slowly looked at the backside of the paper, noticing more cramped, uneven script. Morte had left them another note on the back of Mary's death sentence.

_Phase Three is now complete.  
Two more till the test is beat.  
Sorry about Mary's unfortunate end.  
He really was a dear, dear friend.  
I suggest you all get some rest.  
You will need to do your best.  
That's all I ask - it's not much.  
Goodnight, I'll be in touch._

_-Morte_


	5. Commencing Phase Four

I'm really happy right now because I just found out that someone reviewed on my Haunted Lighthouse story and said that I should send that story into the people that write Scooby-Doo because she thought it would make a good episode. That's really one of the nicest things I've heard! To all of my reviewers out there - I love you guys! All reviews - good or bad - are welcome. Okay, I just finished reading chapter 9 of SpongeAddict's "One for the Money" story. It's so good! If you guys like my stories, I definitely suggest you read hers. I wish I had writing skills like that. Also, if you're interested in cute fluff about Fred and Daphne, you'll want to read "Purple" by XxLadyStrengthxX - so cute! Haha okay, anyway, just thought I'd share that little bit of information with you!  
Oh, by the way, I'm really sorry that it's been a really long time since I've updated this. School just started and things have been a little hectic. I'll try to make time to write so anyone who likes my stories will have something to read.

_Chapter 5 Commencing Phase Four_

"It appears that Mary was Morte's informant during the time she was in prison," Chief Kessler told Mystery Inc. They were sitting in a conference room, two days after the incident in the film museum. Mary's body now lay in a cold freezer, forgotten and unclaimed. His small house had been searched, revealing several notes on the gang, letters to and from Morte, and a small shrine to the psychopathic killer. "That's how that maniac knew all those intimate details about you."

Daphne shivered. The thought of Mary, a man who none of them had really trusted, spying from the bushes as she revealed secrets to Velma, watching the relationships between each member of the team, made her oddly discomforted, as if, somehow, he could still be watching them, his glassy eyes peering in through the window.

"We still don't have any more leads on Morte," the chief continued, "but as soon as we find anything we'll let you know." She then gave them a stern look. "And I expect you all to contact me immediately if she gives you another clue, alright?" Without waiting for an answer, she added, "I know this is a tough time for all of you right now, but sooner or later she'll be brought to justice."

Fred nodded, as if for the entire group. Mystery Inc. was silent, their faces blank and their whole bodies numb. Watching someone die before you was a terrifying event, no matter how creepy that person may have been while living. His surprising laughter was still ringing in their ears, causing chills to run down their spines.

Fred cleared his throat, the first to pull away from these haunting thoughts. "I guess we should be going," he said to his friends. They all gave small nods in agreement. "Thank you, Chief Kessler, for taking the time to tell us this. We'll let you know if anything happens."

Kessler gave a small smile as she shook hands with the blonde. Soon, he led Mystery Inc. out of the building and toward the van, his eyes always directed straight before him without actually seeing. Similar expressions crept on to the faces of everyone else as they were lost in the memories of the tragic incident two nights ago.

Fred slid into the driver's seat and turned the key, starting the engine. As he pulled out onto a road, he glanced down to see Daphne's hand resting very near his own. Her face was blank, emotionless. Those blue eyes that had dazzled him with their sparkle were now dim and empty. She seemed to be blocking out any feelings at all, leaving the hollow shell of the person she was. Fred knew that, underneath this emotionless mask, there was pain and sadness that could only be brought on by such a tragedy as the one they had just experienced. He carefully took his right fist away from the wheel, and, though his eyes remained glued to the road before him, he placed his hand on hers, though the gesture didn't hold all the significance it should have. Had the situation been any different, their intertwined fingers would be a signal of a spark in their relationship. This, however, was not the case now. Instead, Fred's palm resting on Daphne's hand was merely a friendly way of offering a small amount of comfort in a dark time.

In the back of the van, Velma seemed to be regaining some of the feeling she had lost after Mary's death. Her eyes began to tear up, recalling what had happened. She had watched him die. She had seen his last breaths. She had been completely useless, unable to stop this from happening. Even though Mary had been spying on them, he was still human; his life was still worth something. And he had died because he helped them. That was the real thought that seered itself into Velma's mind. He had been warned by Morte that he could not offer any assistance, but he had known what the clue meant and they did not. He had been sympathetic toward them, giving useful information. That was what got him killed. It was their fault - all their fault. Velma buried her head in her hands and began to cry, overcome with guilt.

The sound of Velma's soft sobs caused Shaggy to glance up. He was absently stroking the back of Scooby's head, not really understanding what was happening. Then he heard the most depressing sound in the world, the noise that caused his heart to break. Velma was crying. Hot tears poured from her eyes and made her glasses grow foggy. She was trying to cover her face with the palms of her hands, but Shaggy could still see the red splotches around her eyes. He got up from his spot and sat beside her, placing an arm around her shoulders. He pulled her toward him, allowing her to cry into his shirt.

"Shh," he whispered soothingly, placing his chin on the top of her head. "Shh, like, it's alright." He gently kissed her dark hair, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. "Everything's going to be okay."

Velma listened to his words, his kind tone of voice. She allowed herself to be comforted, resting her head on his chest so that she could hear his quickened heartbeat. Her own began to pick up its pace as well, realizing how, despite the terror that surrounded them, this moment was perfect. He was close; he was with her; he cared. And, for a brief second, that was all that mattered: he cared and so did she. Velma felt that, for that fleeting moment, they shared some sort of profound connection, something that could not be broken.

"Velma," Shaggy began, unsure of himself. "I, um, I think you should, like, spend the night at my place tonight." He blushed, though Velma could not see. Instead, she could hear his hear beating faster than before, indicating obvious nervousness. "I mean, like, as long as Morte's still out there, I, um, I just want to, like, make sure you're safe."

Velma smiled. "Okay," she responded simply, sniffling a bit. By now her tears had subsided, allowing an odd wave of comfort to fall over her. Maybe it was because she knew they would pull through this or perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she was resting in Shaggy's arms. She was not entirely sure what caused it, but one thing was certain: she was going to enjoy this moment for as long as possible.

"Shaggy," Fred said from the front of the van. "We're here." He pulled up to the beatnik's house, much smaller than everyone else's, but possessing a quaint charm.

Shaggy took Velma's hand in his as he climbed out of the Mystery Machine. Scooby hopped out as well, his ears not dropping quite as much and his eyes regaining some of their childish sparkle. The three waved good-bye to Daphne and Fred as they drove off toward Blake Manor.

Daphne shut her eyes, images flashing across her dark lids. Mary's mad laughter right before he was killed, his complete breakdown. Daphne then heard the music in the background and she knew what was going to happen next. The knife came flying out of nowhere, hitting Mary, blood pouring out and staining his shirt. Daphne opened her eyes with a start. She began to breathe very quickly, feeling as though she were on the verge of tears.

Fred, noticing his partner's distress, asked, "Daphne, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Freddie," she said to him, "I knew what was going to happen. I knew Mary was going to die, but I didn't get the chance to say anything. Maybe, if I had just been a little quicker, he'd still be alive." She looked up at him, her large blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. "He died because of us, Fred. He died because he helped us. This is our fault, my fault."

Fred, doing his best to drive carefully and comfort his companion, removed his hand from hers and gently brushed away a few tears that had started to fall. "Daph, listen to me. None of this was your fault. None, I promise. This is all Morte. She's messing with our heads. Just don't let her get to you."

_But she's already gotten to me,_ Daphne wanted to say, but she didn't see the use in arguing, so she kept quiet.

Soon, the pair of them arrived at Daphne's house. She made a move to get out of the van, but Fred stopped her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. Daphne turned to face him, curious.

"Do you mind if I stay with you tonight?" he said, more of a command than a question. "I want to make sure Morte doesn't try anything with you," he explained.

Daphne gave a small smile, feeling rather comforted knowing that she would be protected. "No problem," was her response.

Soon, the two of them were getting ready for bed. Daphne reached the room first, laying down on the mattress. After a moment or two, Fred stood in the doorway. His face was blank, expressionless, giving him an odd look. He silently walked over and rested beside her on the bed, his strong arms wrapping around her torso and pulling her close. There was no space between them, causing Daphne to feel incredibly safe. Something, however, was slightly off. Daphne saw it in his eyes as he had walked in the room. This was not the same Fred that she had fallen in love with. No, he was much more distant and cool now, a side-affect of their traumatic experiences. The red-head sighed. She knew that he would soon work through this aloof stage, though she prayed that it would all be over soon. She didn't like this side of him, this uncaring shell of a person.

These thoughts were the last to cross her mind before she gently slipped into a restless sleep, images of the past weeks flashing before her.

Daphne was running through the corridor in the film museum, searching for the Hitchcock exhibit. The room was filled with props and costumes, many being from _Psycho._ A dark figure could be seen behind a shower curtain. Daphne slowly walked toward it, her footsteps echoing in the empty space. Slowly, carefully, she pulled back the white sheet, revealing a person hunched over in a chair. It was Mary, his face stuck in a deranged expression, his eyes wide open despite the fact that he had been killed. Daphne quickly looked up, squinting to see every corner of the room, searching for the person responsible. She was startled by another body lying in the shadows. There was someone crouched over this corpse. Daphne gingerly moved forward, the dim light illuminating the dead figure. It was Velma, a knife stuck in her chest. The murderer was still squatting beside the body. He stood up, walking into the light. Daphne screamed, the shrill, intense music echoing in her ears as she saw that the killer was none other than Fred. But he wasn't her Fred. His eyes were a deep scarlet and he looked positively mad.

Daphne sat up with a start, taking in the surroundings. Her breath was coming quickly, her heart beating much faster than normal. It had just been a nightmare. Fred was not a murderer, despite his unwanted change of personality. Everything was fine.

"Daphne," Fred called to her from another room in the house. "Hurry up and get ready. We have to meet Shaggy and Velma soon."

It was morning now. Fred had obviously woken up and gotten out of bed, allowing her to have a few more minutes of sleep. Daphne rubbed her eyes groggily. She had completely forgotten about their plans to drop by Shaggy's house at eight. With slow, tired movements, she managed to brush her hair and throw on some clothes, skipping breakfast.

Soon, the two of them were in the Mystery Machine, driving to the home of a familiar beatnik. Daphne watched Fred carefully on the way over, analyzing his every move. She was relieved to see that his eyes were not the demonic red they had been in her dream. Instead, they were they're usual blue. He was actually looking more normal today. A smile even crossed his face as he noticed her staring, causing Daphne to blush.

_Good,_ she thought, _everything is back to normal. _

"Alright," Fred told her, "we're here." He jumped out of the van, quickly making his way over to Daphne's side. Before she had the chance to do anything, he opened to car door for her in a very gentleman-like manner. This was all the proof necessary that Fred had indeed gotten over his aloof stage.

The two of them walked merrily to Shaggy's door only to find it unlocked. Fred carefully led the way into the messy house, searching for any sign of hsi friend.

"Shaggy?" he called.

"Velma," Daphne cried, walking down the hallway that led to Shaggy's room. She carefully opened the door, unsure of what to expect.

Fred followed her inside the crowded room. Posters and food wrappers seemed to take over the place, giving it a rather intimidating feel. Fred looked around and found Scooby-Doo, lying unconcious in the closet.

"Scooby," he said urgently to the dog, fearing something terrible had happened. Luckily, there was still a pulse. The great animal had obviously been sedated, causing him to give no response. "Look at this," Fred said to Daphne, holding up a folded piece of paper that had been attached to Scooby's collar.

Daphne read it aloud, a lump rising in her throat.

_Jock and princess, outcasts and nerd,_  
_The combination may seem absurd._  
_You have shown how to make it work,_  
_But, my friends, you were not the first._  
_Five in detention, where did they go?_  
_To find your friends, you must know._  
_If not, they go out with a bang,_  
_Two less members of the gang._  
_So go and save those that you love,_  
_Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club._

_-Morte_

* * *

I know it seems like I make a lot of movie references, but these are some of my all-time favorite films. I _love_ old movies, so you might want to get used to it as long as Morte's in the picture because she clearly enjoys making these obscure movie references. Anyway, please review and tell me how you liked this!


	6. Time is Running Out

Okay, I've just started to realize that I have almost no idea of who my audience is. I know nothing about you nice people that take time out of your days to read my new chapters, and that really bothers me. I also realize that you probably don't know anything about me unless you've visited my profile, which I doubt you have. So, now I'm going to tell you three random facts about me: 1. I love Nerimon and Charlieissocoollike on YouTube. 2. When I was five, my friend and I pretended we were Daphne and we would run around the play yard trying to solve mysteries. However, nothing was wrong, so there were no mysteries for us to solve. 3. I'm only 5'2, which, in case you didn't know, is really short in today's world. Alright, now you know a bit more about me. If you're reading this and you care, review this chapter and include a few random facts about yourself. Please! Bye! :)

_Chapter 6 Time is Running Out_

"What the hell does this mean?" Daphne asked, the note still in her shaking hand. "Oh my God! We should've gotten here earlier. This is all my fault! I made us twenty minutes late, and now they're gone. What is Morte talking about in this clue?"

Fred was a few feet away, petting the now-concious Scooby-Doo. His eyes were narrowed in concentration as he tossed the words around in his mind, searching for anything that might be of use. "Well," he said finally, "_Breakfast Club_ is an old movie. In it, five completely different kids meet in detention at their school. In the end, they become friends, kind of like us." He stared at a spot on the carpet as he desparately tried to make sense of the whole situation. "I-I can't remember anything else." He put his palm to his forehead, showing that how helpless he truly felt. "Why can't I think of anything?"

Daphne, seeing that he was blaming himself, walked over and squatted beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Freddie, don't worry about it. We'll just drive down to the police station and tell Kessler about all of this. I'm sure she can help us sort this mess out."

A dark shadow seemed to pass over his face. He looked as he had the previous night, empty, emotionless. This more than anything caused Daphne to feel uneasy. She hated seeing how this freak was slowly ruining the wonderful person Fred was. Morte had somehow managed to get completely inside this boy's head.

Suddenly, his expression changed. His eyes lit up and the color returned to his face, causing Daphne to let out a breath that she hadn't known she was holding in. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I think I know where they are."

Meanwhile, Shaggy and Velma were just beginning to regain their conciousness. They had been taken sometime during the night, though Morte had slipped them something to ensure that they remained asleep for most of the whole ordeal.

Velma's glasses began to slide down her nose, and she instictively tried to raise a hand to push them back up. This motion, however, was rendered impossible by the tight ropes that bound her arms together behind her back. She groaned and turned to look at Shaggy.

A white cloth had been tied around both of their mouths in an attempt to keep them quiet. Unfortunately, this fabric tasted absolutely awful, adding to the overall misery of the situation. Shaggy and Velma were seated side by side in wooden chairs that were oddly familiar.

Velma, after a moment, realized that she recognized the place they were being held. This location had previously been a sort of sanctuary for the nerdy girl, a place where she could go whenever things grew too complicated. Now, Morte had transformed it into the last room Velma might ever see.

Shaggy watched as Velma solved the mystery of where they were. He was then distracted by a rhythmic ticking noise. Looking around to find the source, his attention was directed to the ground beneath the chairs they were in.

Right there, in the middle of the two, was a mechanical-looking device, containing wires and pipes, topped off with a timer and flashing red numbers. It was a bomb. According to the countdown, they only had twenty minutes left.

A few miles away, Scooby, Daphne and Fred were sitting in the Mystery Machine. They were heading to the police station, wanting all the extra help they could get with this whole Morte situation. Suddenly, Scooby began to bounce around and make obscure gestures with his paws. Obviously he was trying to tell his two human friends something.

"Razy," he said, twirling his front paw in a circle beside his ear. "Razy lady."

"Morte? The crazy lady?" Daphne asked. She really didn't enjoy playing charades with the dog, for Shaggy was the one who was truly good at this. "What about her?"

Scooby, in the back of the van, imitated what must have been his interpretation of what happened when Morte captured Shaggy and Velma. When he had finished his little act, Scooby indicated that Morte had whispered something to him.

"What did Morte say to you?" Daphne questioned urgently.

"Rourty minutes," the dog barked. "Rarting now."

"Fourty minutes starting now?" Daphne's heart began racing. "Jeepers! Fred, we'll just have to meet the police there. Morte told Scooby the deadline," she explained, seeing his confused expression. "She said we had fourty minutes starting at the time they were taken. That's when we were supposed to be there, but I made us late. Now, we have less than twenty minutes and we're already fifteen minutes away!"

Fred's eyes went wide and he nearly drove off the road. "_What_?" He groaned. "We can't just show up there and rescue them. Morte said that if we don't get there in time, Velma and Shaggy will 'go out with a bang.' I'm pretty sure that means there's a bomb somewhere in the building." He smacked his hand on the steering wheel out of frustration. Then, he quickly jerked the wheel, causing the car to make a hurried U-turn. Fred was now driving toward the library at Coolsville High, where he was sure the Shaggy and Velma were being held. He tossed his cell phone in Daphne's direction. "Call Kessler and tell her to get the bomb squad down at the high school."

At the school, Velma and Shaggy were beginning to grow worried. Up until that point, they had conviced themselves that Fred and Daphne would burst through the doors at any moment and rescue them. Unfortunately for them, twelve minutes had passed and their hope was beginning to falter. Now, they were completely unsure whether or not these moments would be their last.

* * *

Okay, I've decided to end the chapter here. I was going to keep it going, but I'm not feeling very inspired right now. So, consequently, this story will have _more_ than my usual 7 chapters. It'll probably have eight or nine. Anyway, please review, and, in your review, be sure to tell me a random fact about yourself. I know you think this is probably insane or whatever, but it'll probably help me connect more with you, my lovely audience. Alright, well, bye!


	7. The Rescue

If you're reading this and you also read "The Gang Goes to DisneyWorld," then I just want to say that I'm sorry I didn't update that first. I actually promised LadyStrength that it would be up last Monday, but something's happened. I don't really feel comfortable telling everyone on the Internet all the intimate details of my life, so I'll just leave it at that - something's happened. Anyway, it's left me feeling alone, sad and exhausted - the exact emotions that many of the characters in this story are feeling. So, instead of attempting to write something humorous while I feel like this, I've decided to continue with this story. Anyway, here it goes.

_Chapter 7 The Rescue_

Velma managed to work the cloth out of her mouth. She was now beginning to believe that these would be the last moments she would ever live. This thought had given her the motivation necessary to un-gag herself. Tears were starting to well up in the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision. She had to tell Shaggy now, or he would never know. If these truly were her last breaths, then Velma had nothing to lose by confessing her feelings.

"Shaggy," she began, her voice hoarse as she began to cry. This surely would be the last contact they would have with each other, and that thought caused a tremendous pain in her chest. "Shaggy, I lo-" Velma found it impossible to speak, her speach taken away by the lump that was rising in her throat. She gasped for breath, feeling as if her emotional turmoil was suffocating her. There was so much pain, so much suffering. Death seemed like nothing in comparison to the heart-wrenching agony she was going through, knowing that the boy she loved was about to die with her, that their lives would end in mere minutes. She thought of all the good times she'd shared with her friends, particularly the scrawny boy beside her. Velma would never be able to laugh with them again. Her time in that world was over, and so was Shaggy's. Tears flooded down her cheeks. Her face was blotchy and distorted from the effort it was taking to hold back her sobs. She looked up at Shaggy's face. His eyes were wide, glistening with unshed tears. "I love you," she said in a high voice, crying bitterly. As soon as the words exited her mouth, the reality of the situation struck fully. This would be the last thing Shaggy would ever hear and she would ever say. The pain in her heart attacked once more with crippling strength, realizing that soon it would all be over. She began to sob loudly and unashamed, terrified. Anyone who claims they don't fear death is either insane or lying.

_Tomorrow, _Velma thought_, I'll be nothing more than a tragedy on the news. People will say, "Oh, what a shame," but they won't understand. No, they'll never understand how it feels to know that you're dying, to know that you only have six minutes before you simply cease to exist._

Velma thought back to the first time she had met her friends. That seemed like so long ago and they had all come so far since then. Poor Scooby, so dependent on Shaggy, how would he survive once his owner was gone?

Fred would most likely shut himself up completely. He would no doubt become the emotionless drone that had been present the night before in the van.

And Daphne, always so over-emotional, she would probably cry for days. _Oh, Daphne,_ Velma pleaded in her mind, _please don't blame yourself. Don't take this too hard - just keep living your life and don't let this tragedy get in the way._

Shaggy, the poor kid beside her, the one that had stolen her heart, was now going to die with her. This idea was the most painful. Shaggy had never wanted any of this. He would have been content with a quiet life. But he was pulled in by his friends. In a way, this was their fault - Fred, Daphne and Velma. They were the ones always insistent on solving mysteries. They were the ones who had somehow, indirectly, gotten themselves into that mess. It just didn't seem fair that Shaggy should have to suffer for their actions.

Velma began to weep harder. _I love you, Shaggy,_ she thought, for she found it impossible to speak. _I love you and I'll never get to see you again. I love Fred, and Daphne, and Scooby as well, but they'll keep living while we just stop. I love you, but now we die._

A faint noise drew her from such depressing thoughts. Her head snapped up and her ears strained to hear.

It was footsteps.

Shaggy's eyes went even wider and he began to rock excitedly in his chair, attempting to say something through the cloth in his mouth. Velma, glad that she was able to speak, began shouting. "We're in here!" she called, positive that the two approaching were Fred and Daphne. She had never been so glad to have mystery-solving friends. They even had four minutes to spare.

The doors burst open.

"Jeepers!" Daphne exclaimed, running over to her friends.

"Are you alright?" Fred asked them, taking the gag out of Shaggy's mouth. With quick, nimble fingers, the blonde boy managed to free Shaggy and Velma from their bonds, though the bomb was still ticking away.

As soon as the ropes had dropped from Shaggy's wrists, he turned to Velma, his eyes burning into hers. Tears still stained her flushed cheeks, giving her a pitiful appearance. She looked as though she were about to say something, perhaps wanting to explain her confession. But Shaggy didn't want her to speak at that moment. Instead, he grabbed her face between his thin hands, and, without warning, crashed his lips onto hers. The kiss was short, but it had a tremendous affect on both teenagers. As they pulled apart, each looked both confused and pleased, unsure of how to proceed.

"Like, I love you, too, Velma," Shaggy admitted quietly.

Daphne cleared her throat, reminding the two that they weren't alone in that room. "I'd hate to ruin your little moment here, but, in case you haven't noticed, there's _a bomb that's about to explode!_"

"Come on, gang," Fred said to them. "We need to get out of here - _now._"

With that, he led the way out of the building, everyone sprinting as they realized that there was only one minute until the whole place went up in flames. They reached a door, and, upon pushing it, realized that it was locked. With a frustrated groan, Fred tried to hurry to the other end of the building, praying that they didn't run out of time.

Suddenly, a voice on the intercom spoke.

"Go now, run, leave here, my friends,  
Before you meet your explosive ends.  
You've just passed this phase,  
But next it will be hell I raise.  
Fred, be warned, you must pay the price.  
To complete the test you must sacrifice.  
Good-bye now, my friends.  
This is certainly not the end."

Everyone knew immediately that the speaker was Morte. She was taunting them as they ran toward the exit. Her insane laughter poured out of the speakers as they sprinted to a door. Even when the gang was outside, they could still hear her chuckling playing in their heads, messing with them.


	8. The Final Phase

I'm really sorry that I've been neglecting all of my stories on here. Its been a tough couple of weeks, but I'd like to thank AudreyMetalMouth and LadyStrength for listening to me when I needed to talk. You two have really helped me through this, and I'm really grateful. This chapter, as well as any other chapter of any other story I ever write, is dedicated especially to Jane Tyler and Rose Smith, forever my best friends. I know they'd want me to keep moving forward in my life, so that's exactly what I intend to do. Jane and Rose - rest in peace.

_Chapter 8 The Final Phase_

The gang sprinted out of the building. Adrenaline was pumping through the veins of each terrified teen.

"Faster!" Fred shouted as he ushered his friends as far away from the site as possible. "Duck behind the cars," he commanded, for they had exited into the school's parking lot. It was relatively empty, though there were a few vehicles that would provide sufficient cover from the explosion that was about to occur.

Daphne rushed toward a nearby Ford F150. Just as she was about to dive behind the truck, a deafening bang sounded from behind her. There was a moment of panic before a wall of heat sent her sprawling across the asphalt. Her head struck the pavement, causing her to be temporarily disoriented. After a moment or two, she looked up, but did not want to turn around to see the damage Morte caused.

Instead, Daphne glanced to her left. Shaggy and Velma were lying together in a crumpled heap. Shaggy's arms were wrapped protectively around the small girl in an attempt to shelter her from the blast. The two of them appeared to be unconcious.

Daphne turned now and looked to her right. There was Fred, his face now smeared with dirt and blood. He seemed to be struggling to sit up, though this effort was in vain. His muscular body now appeared so fragile and broken. Daphne noticed that his leg was bent in an awkward position. Perhaps that was the reason he could not seem to move, for it looked terribly painful.

Daphne suddenly felt anger toward the boy. Why did he have to go and be the hero all the time? Fred could have easily made it out of the parking lot before the bomb went off. But he just _had_ to stay back and make sure everyone was out safely before he could even begin to think of himself. He just _had_ to be brave, heroic, perfect. And look where that got him. Instead of being safe and unharmed, he was injured and unable to move.

Daphne lay there for a few more minutes, simply staring at him. Fred's blue eyes were soon locked in her gaze, and neither seemed to be able to look away. His countenance was a mixture of pain and relief. Fred, big, strong, tough Fred, now appeared vulnerable. He had never looked that way before.

For some reason, Daphne wondered how he saw her at that moment. Her red hair was probably slightly messy, though still neatly arranged; her clothes must be rumpled, but they were not torn; and, apart from the bump on her forehead, her body was physically unharmed. But mentally, she was scarred and crippled. Something in the explosion seemed to have changed her.

Daphne felt detached, emotionless. Similar to how Fred had acted the previous day - empty. She knew that her face was expressionless and her eyes had no life left in them. She felt as if all her feelings were being drained out of her as she rested on the ground.

_It's better this way,_ she convinced herself. _If you can't feel, you can't get hurt._ And all Daphne truly wanted at that moment was for the pain to go away, to abandon her and feast on someone else. She managed to persuade herself to let go of every sentiment and passion that she had left. This solution succeeded in ridding her heart of its terrible ache, though now she was hollow. Still, the tenderness was gone.

As Fred and Daphne stared at each other, time seemed to slow down. But, all of a sudden, Fred's expression changed and everything was moving fast-paced once more. His big blue eyes were no longer pools of pain. Instead, a new emotion was taking over - fear. Fred bolted upright, wincing as his injured leg protested the sudden movement. Daphne observed him, no longer feeling empty. Instead, panic and horror began to pulse through her veins as she realized that Fred was no longer looking at her, but at someone _behind_ her.

After several other futile attempts to stand, Fred looked at Daphne, helpless and desparate. He mouthed the word, "Morte."

Gripped with terror, Daphne began to cry. She found that she was unable to turn around and look that psychopath in the eyes. Instead, she kept her gaze locked on Fred, who had begun crawling over toward them. Daphe gave him a little half-smile despite the situation. They both knew that she was going to be taken, yet he was still trying to rescue her.

Never taking her eyes from Fred, Daphne sensed that Morte was growing closer. A sharp, sudden pain could be felt at her neck, and Daphne soon realized that Morte was injecting her with some sort of tranquilizer. Whatever the stuff was, it succeeded in knocking out the red-head.

"Let her go!" Fred demanded gruffly as Morte began to drag Daphne's unconcious body toward a nearby car. "Do whatever you want to me, but leave her alone!"

Morte merely smiled, her eyes wide and deranged. "But where's the fun in that?" she asked with a chuckle. In one swift movement, Morte scooped Daphne up off the pavement and placed her in the trunk of a Toyota. "Phase Five has just begun," she announced, climbing into the vehicle.

"No!" Fred shouted as the car sped away, taking with it the only girl he'd ever loved. "No, no, no, no, no!"

By now, he'd reached the truck that Daphne had been using for cover from the explosion. Lifting a fist, he was prepared to punch the side of the Ford out of frustration, but a strip of white stood out from the blacktop. Looking down, Fred realized that Morte had left a note for them.

_Congratulations on Phase Four  
Now you only have one more.  
Your school is gone, your girl is too  
Honestly, it would suck to be you.  
If you want her back, do what I say,  
Or she'll not live to see another day.  
You'll get orders that must be followed  
Or your love won't wake up tomorrow._

_-Morte_

_

* * *

_

So, what did you think? I haven't been writing for a while, so I'm sorry if my skills are a bit rusty. It'll take me some time to adjust, so I apologize if this chapter isn't as good as the others. Please review and give me your thoughts.


	9. The End of the Beginning

Thank you for all the kind comments I received on the last chapter. You're all really nice and supportive. Because writing seems to help me get through tough times, I may be doing a bit more of it for the next month or so. This will probably mean that my stories will be updated a lot faster than usual.

_Two young girls skipped through the clouds.  
One of them stopped and began to look down.  
The other one asked, "What do you see?"  
The first said, "Someone praying for me."  
The second asked, "What are they saying?"  
The answer: "God, bless Rose and Jane."  
These are the words I pray every day,  
Hoping in Heaven they hear what I say._

I wrote this short poem in memory of Jane and Rose - my biggest fans, my best friends in the world. Forever in my heart.

_Chapter 9 The End of the Beginning_

Fred's breath was coming abnormally fast, and his mind was possessed by only one thought - Daphne. He was attempting to pace across the floor in Chief Kessler's office, though this action was inhibited by his injured leg. A doctor had informed him that it was nothing more than a fracture, so a brace would need to be worn for a while. Even still, this injury would not stop him from nervously limping backa and forth. Shaggy, Velma, Scooby and the chief were all present as well, watching the blonde boy with growing concern.

"Fred, she'll contact us soon," Velma assured him from her seat. "Morte always gives us instructions on how to find the people she takes."

Fred lifted his hands to his head and rubbed his palms against his forehead. "Ugh, but why is it taking so long?" he asked nervously. "Why haven't we heard from her yet? What if she's done something to Daphne?" At this, he looked at each of the people in the room, his blue eyes wide with fear.

"R'its r'okay, Freddie," Scooby barked in an attempt to calm him.

"Can't we be doing something?" Fred asked. It was clear that he was feeling completely useless at the moment. He needed to feel that, in some way, he was helping get Daphne back safely.

Chief Kessler shook her head. "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do until contact is made. As soon as she talks to you, we'll do everything we can to bring this nutjob down."

Fred nodded, though he still looked extremely agitated. "Right. This is going to be the end. All of this is going to be over soon. This is going to be the end..." Saying these words had a somewhat theraputic effect. Fred was almost beginning to believe them when the chief's phone rang.

The noise was shrill and sudden, startling Shaggy. He lept up from his seat and landed on Velma's lap. After realizing that it was only the phone, he muttered some incomprehensible excuse. Velma merely giggled, finding his hand and intertwining her fingers with his.

Fred observed this little moment with a strange sort of jealousy and wonder. Would he ever reach that stage with Daphne? How was it fair that Shaggy and Velma still had each other while he was left completely alone?

Fred was pulled from his musings by the chief turning her phone on speaker. The voice on the other line was the familiar one of Morte.

"Rosewood Park, be there at eight.  
For Daphne's sake, don't be late.  
You must meet me alone, Fred,  
Or your love will soon be dead."

There was a faint _click_ as Morte hung up. Everyone in Kessler's office simply stood rooted in their spots, staring intently at the phone on the desk.

"Like, what happens now?" Shaggy asked in a quiet voice, almost as if he was afraid to break the heavy silence that had fallen over the room.

Fred seemed to regain his speech as he replied, "I'll go." He stuck his chin out and held his head high in a pose that clearly displayed the confidence and courage he was in possession of. "I'm going. I'll talk to Morte. I'll save Daphne. This is the end. It all ends tonight."

For the next several minutes, Chief Kessler made several futile attempts to convince Fred to bring backup. She claimed it was unsafe, for Morte was completely mental. This was true, but Fred merely referred back to Morte's instruction that he must be alone. Finally, the two agreed that Fred would wear a wire and the police would be stationed in a van down the street.

As soon as this agreement had been made, Fred glanced at the clock. It was already seven o'clock, though waiting an hour seemed the equivalent of waiting an eternity.

"Do you mind if you set me up with the wire now?" Fred asked. "I want to head over to the park early."

Chief Kessler looked a bit perplexed by this request, though she concented and had her team get everything ready.

By 7:15, Fred was limping toward a small wooden bench situated in the middle of Rosewood Park. On the back of the seat, a commemorative inscription announced that this particular bench was dedicated to Rosewood in honor of a woman named Jane Tyler. For a while, Fred allowed his mind to wander. Who was Jane Tyler? What had she done in her life that made her worthy of such remembrance? It was strange to him that he'd never heard of her. Perhaps she had been amiable and outgoing and wonderful. Perhaps someone had loved her the way Fred loved Daphne. All of this could have been true, yet Fred had never heard her name mentioned before. Was this why the bench had been decorated with the plaque - to make sure that everyone who passed it knew who Jane Tyler was?

Thoughts of the dead, the unknown and the forgotten continued to ramble about in Fred's mind. He was so absorbed in his musings that he didn't notice that someone had joined him on Jane's bench.

"Hello, Freddie," the traumatizing voice greeted.

Fred's body immediately tensed. He felt a fresh wave of panic run through his body, washing away all thoughts.

"Don't worry," Morte said, a smile on her lips. "I won't bite - much."

Fred stared at the woman next to him. Her eyes were as dark and wild as ever, letting him know that not much had changed since their last encounter. He then called back all previous memories he'd had of Morte: the eerie notes, the murder of Mary, the explosion at school, Daphne's kidnapping. "Where is she?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'll tell you soon enough. But first, I thought we'd have a little talk," Morte said, still grinning. Upon noticing that Fred was going to remain silent, she continued, "You live an awfully dangerous life. You love Daphne. These two things don't go well together."

"What are you talking about?" Fred asked, curious despite his better judgment. Morte was discussing a sensitive topic - his care for Daphne - allowing the basketcase to get under his skin.

"Well, look at what happened here," the mad woman explained. "If watching her friends nearly die wasn't traumatizing enough, she was also captured and threatened. And do you know why I did it?" Morte asked him. She could tell that this conversation had really pulled some of the strings inside him. "I only did all of that to get to you," she whispered.

Fred was trying to ignore everything she was saying, but Morte was inside his head, rattling around in his mind, playing off his greatest emotions.

"The only reason I ever thought about kidnapping Daphne was because I knew that it would affect you the most." Morte noted Fred's grim, severe expression, and she began to laugh. It was the same insane laughter that haunted the dreams of each member of Mystery Inc. "Just imagine how many other psychopaths you'll meet later on. If they're half as crazy as I am, they'll want to mess with you the same way I have - by taking the thing you love most." Morte had stopped chuckling by now. She leaned closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. "As long as you're close to her, she's not safe."

Fred was furious. He just wanted Morte to stop talking, though he couldn't say anything of the sort until he was sure she couldn't harm Daphne any more. However, there was another reason for his rage. He knew she was right. Morte was right, but Fred didn't want to admit this. If what she claimed was true, then Fred could never tell Daphne how he felt. If he did, she would be the most obvious target for anyone who wished to cause him pain. That thought - that maybe there were more like Morte in the world - caused him a great deal of anguish and frustration.

Morte, seemingly oblivious to Fred's emotional turmoil, resumed speaking. "Do you know why I'm like this? All of the strings inside me just snapped (A/N: A person having strings inside them is definitely not my original idea. I got it from the book _Paper Towns_ which is a brilliant piece of literature). Everyone has these strings that hold them together. When they break, a person will either lose all humanity or they'll take their own life. And I was never fond of suicide. That's why I'm like this." Morte almost seemed to get lost in her own thoughts for a brief moment. She was contemplating these last few sentences, looking back at the memories that caused her to break. Suddenly, she snapped out of her trance. The normalness that had overcome her for a few seconds was gone, replaced by her usual wild and crazy look. "I bet I could make your strings snap. I could make you just like me. And all I would have to do is kill your precious Daphne and everyone else you love. Imagine that - you're family and friends: _gone_. That's what holds you together - your love for these people. Without them, you'd be just like me. They're the reason you live, the reason you're normal. If I just cut that string, you and I will be the same. And it could all start with Daphne." Morte laughed loudly, more than before.

"Don't you dare hurt her," Fred growled threateningly.

Morte's wild laughter began to die down. "Oh, don't worry, Freddie. I'll give her back to you. But, remember, as long as it's clear that you love her, Daphne isn't safe. And, trust me, I'm not the worst you're going to see." With these words, Morte rose from the bench. "There's a blue Mazda parked about a block away from here. You'll find your girl in the trunk."

Fred stood, facing Morte. A smile was spread across his face. "Now that you've told me where she is, ten police officers are coming over to arrest you." Sure enough, several pairs of footsteps could be heard in the distance. Fred leaned in a bit closer. "This is the end."

Morte began grinning as well, her smile causing Fred's to faulter. "On the contrary, this is only the beginning."

She pulled a small device out of her pocket and pressed a red button on it. This triggered some sort of small explosion in one of the nearby trees. Fred turned his head toward the blast, relieved to see that no officers had been hurt by the device. When he looked back around, he discovered that Morte was no longer there. Instead, rustling could be heard in a few bushes to his right.

"Where'd she go?" a police officer asked, running up toward Fred.

The boy pointed silently in the direction of the noise he'd heard, though he was quite certain that Morte would be long gone by now. This was proven true when the officer returned a moment later with a piece of paper in his hand. He gave the note to Fred, who was about to read it when he remembered that Daphne was in the trunk of a car. The note still in hand, Fred sprinted down the block until he found the car specified by Morte. Closing his eyes and saying a silent prayer, Fred tried to open the trunk. Surprisingly, it was unlocked.

"Daphne," Fred whispered, breathing a sigh of relief as he laid eyes on the familiar red-head. Even bound and gagged, she looked as beautiful as ever.

Fred hurriedly undid the knots that trapped her wrists together and removed the piece of cloth from her mouth. He then realized that she was crying. There was no sight more depressing that this: tears streaking silently from her sad eyes.

"Oh, Daphne," he said softly, pulling the girl into a hug, stroking her strawberry blonde hair. He gently lifted her out of the trunk and placed her feet firmly on the ground.

"Freddie," she replied, unable to say anything else.

So many emotions were flowing through both of them at that moment that it was difficult to know which to act on. In the end, it was compassion that won out over the rest. Fred pulled back a little from their hug and leaned closer. His lips touched hers for a brief moment before he cut the kiss off. After this, the two of them remained in each others arms, holding their love close to them and never wanting to let go.

Despite the joy of their renunion, Fred could not help but think of the words that Morte had said to him. It was then that he recalled the note, and, still holding onto Daphne, he read the piece of paper.

_A difficult decision you must make,  
For now I know the string to break.  
You like having her in your arms,  
But here she'll be prone to harm.  
You're like me, so I'll be back.  
Only one more string to snap._

_-Morte_

_P.S. Like I said, this is just the beginning._

A/N: Not too proud of this chapter, but tell me what you think.


	10. The Reflection

Hi, everyone! I'm sure you'll all be happy to know that I'm starting to feel...normal. And I know that doesn't sound like such a big accomplishment, but, trust me, it is. This chapter is especially dedicated to LadyStrength and AudreyMetalMouth. Thank you guys so much for your kind words and generous support. You've helped me more than you could ever know. I'm truly blessed to have made friends like you.

I wasn't orginally going to include this chapter. Instead, I was just going to end the story with Chapter Nine, but I've been needing something to write, so I'll just continue this. To be honest, I have no idea how this is going to end, so sorry if it seems a bit choppy.

Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this. If you like it, review! If you don't like it, review! Oh, and please give me some suggestions for future stories, because I think I'm going to continue this series, but I have _no _idea what to do!

R.I.P. Rose and Jane - Forever in my heart.

_Chapter 10 The Reflection_

_"Only one more string to snap_."

These words would not leave Fred's tortured mind. He had been trying to get some rest for the past three hours, but each time he drew nearer to sleep, that voice startled him back into reality. So, instead of attempting to fall asleep, Fred was lying on his back, his fingers caressing the charm he wore around his neck. That small piece of jewelry - half of a Yin-Yang sign - was the symbol of his connection to Daphne.

Daphne.

Images of her floated to the surface. Daphne Ann Blake was surely the most beautiful creature that had ever walked on the face of the earth. She was perfect in every way imaginable. He would do anything to see her smile that fantastic smile of hers.

Fred chuckled quietly in the darkness of his bedroom. He was amazed that he sounded like such a sap, but this was all true. He found no flaw in her, and in his opinion, Daphne was not made of bones and blood and muscle; no, she was created entirely out of perfection and wonder. There was no other way to explain how spectacular she was.

Sure, he had seen her flaws in the beginning. When they'd first met, he believed her to be rude, ungrateful, bossy, judgmental.

But that was then, back when he didn't know her. Back when he was conceited and popular. Back when mysteries weren't a part of his life. Back when he hadn't thought of anyone but himself. However, now things were quite different. He had changed. Daphne had changed. They had changed together and become compatible. And they would make a great couple. They would be in love. They would be together. They would be happy.

But that wasn't how things were meant to work out.

He recalled the events that had transpired earlier that day.

Fred had been sitting at the gang's usual booth in the Malt Shop. He was accompanied by Shaggy and Velma, who were engaged in a passionate conversation about their feelings for one another. Not wishing to hear this disgusting exchange, Fred turned his attention to Scooby-Doo. The dog was gulping down three pizzas, each topped with peanut butter, sardines, whipped cream, and Cheetos. He was beginning to get grossed out by this spectacle, but his thoughts were soon distracted by a familiar figure. Daphne walked into the Malt Shop, looking drop-dead gorgeous as always. She'd seemed remarkably cheerful for someone who'd been kidnapped the night before. However, Fred did not choose to dwell on this. Instead, he was trying to decide how to approach the Morte-Daphne situation. In the end, he'd come to the conclusion that he should tell her about Morte's threat.

Luckily for him, an opportunity presented itself when Shaggy, Scooby and Velma decided to take a walk and get some fresh air. Fred noticed how Daphne scooted closer to him, a faint blush warming her cheeks. It was then that he'd taken out the note that Morte had given him. He handed it to Daphne, watching her read through it. Fred then told her about everything Morte had said to him - her strings, his strings, the love that held him together, the threat on Daphne's life, how Fred was like Morte. Daphne listened to all of this quite patiently. There was a strange mixture of pain and understanding in her eyes.

"I just want to make sure that you're safe," Fred had told her, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. He was imagining what a world without Daphne would be like. The thought alone was painful enough to tear his heart out.

Daphne had slowly nodded her head. She then slid away ever-so-slightly, making sure that there was adequate space between them. She hadn't spoken a word, but she knew.

She knew that, at least for now, they could not be more than friends. She knew that she had to act as if that wonderful kiss had never happened. She knew that she had to bottle up her feelings and hide them away.

And Fred knew this, too. As long as Morte was out there, he could never freely express his love to Daphne without putting her in danger.

As Fred remembered all of this, he felt his eyelids grow heavy. Soon, still thinking of Morte and Daphne, he entered into a troubled sleep.

During the night, his dreams were filled with that insane laughter and that deranged voice. "_Only one more string to snap...This is just the beginning._"

When he woke up the next morning, Fred realized why Morte had handed over Daphne so nicely. Daphne had never been the victim. No, instead it was Fred who was the target. That meeting in the park had allowed Morte to successfully accomplish her goal - to get inside his head.

It had worked. Morte was messing with Fred's mind without any physical contact. She had him worried about himself and those he cared about. Morte had also gotten Fred thinking. Was he really like her? Was there any similarity between the two of them? Was what she said about snapping his strings just an empty threat, or did she truly intend to go after all those he loved most?

And the biggest, most troubling question was what would he do if she really did break him?

* * *

So, what'd you think? Please let me know by _reviewing!_

Oh, and while reading through this again, I found a few gramatical errors. Please let me know if I make any mistakes! I promise I won't be offended, but it'll allow me to change what I have wrong. It's really embarrassing to put up work with errors, so help me out.

Thanks!


	11. Chapter 11

Okay, so I know you're not supposed to have author's notes as chapters on here, but there's something that I really need to tell all of my readers:

Many people have asked me to update this story, but, the thing is, I'm done with it. That last chapter was the end, and I don't intend to continue this particular story. It's over, done, complete, finished. My series, however, will be continuing, so there will be some other Morte stories in the near future, but not this one. I'm sorry if you were disappointed with the ending, or if you thought it was a terrible way to finish a story, but that is the conclusion that I planned for it, so I won't change it.

Now, I apologize if you guys really wanted this story to continue, but I've got nothing else to say. I should be adding a new story to my series soon, so I have a couple of things to ask you guys:

Were there any questions you had about the last story? Was there anything in there that you wanted to be addressed later? Were there any events that you wanted to happen at the end of this story? Review on this chapter and let me know. I promise I'll answer any questions you have or I'll try to include things that you guys wanted to see in my next story, which should be up soon.

Thanks for reading this, and I'm really sorry if you were expecting another chapter at the end of this story.


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